


Playing

by Jld71



Series: Play Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Bottom Sam Winchester, Character Death, Incest, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Oral Sex, Top Dean Winchester, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71
Summary: With Dean’s help, Sam finds another toy to play with. Dean puts Sam’s need to play first, but he does everything he can to keep them safe.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Play Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521008
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	Playing

**Author's Note:**

> Do Not Re-Post Without My Written Permission - Only To Be Posted On My AO3 Or LiveJournal Accounts  
> Wincest Big Bang 2020  
> Title: Playing - Part 3 of the Play Verse  
> Beta: wincest_whore  
> Artist: ncdover1285  
> Link to Art: https://ncdover1285.tumblr.com/private/631330950871171072/tumblr_qhu80g97dL1vj8o90

Sam had spotted the woman walking alone down the deserted street as they drove. His head whipped around to look out the back window at her as they drove past. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with a petite body and long dark hair that framed a heart-shaped face. But, it was the eyes that drew him to her. Even from a distance, they looked haunted; sad, and almost empty. He felt the itch as his skin began to tingle. She was it. She was meant to be his next toy.

“Dean, stop the car,” Sam breathed out.

Dean had to brake hard after hearing his brother’s words and glanced into the rearview mirror to see what had caught Sam’s attention. Seeing the female figure approaching, Dean quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

“She’s perfect,” Sam whispered to him.

Dean nodded his head in agreement. He surveyed their surroundings. It was just them and the girl. Perfect was right, he thought to himself. He patted Sam’s thigh, giving him the permission he needed; what he’d been waiting for.

“Love you,” Sam whispered as he swung his door open. Getting out, he approached the girl. He watched as the girl eyed him. He smiled, dimples out in full force, trying to make himself seem less intimidating. He knew his height and muscle mass made him appear hulking at times. But, he knew how to turn on the charm. All he had to do was smile, show his dimples, and give the puppy dog eyes to most people and he had them eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Sam. That’s Dean,” he said, indicating to the Impala with a nod of his head. “We saw you and you look like you could use a ride. We’re heading out in the morning. We can give you a ride if you need it. You can stay with us tonight. Sleep in a safe place.”

The girl looked at Sam, taking in his height and the muscles that flexed as he raised his arm to offer her his hand. “What do I have to do to get a bed and then a ride?” She asked cautiously as she stood her ground. “I’m not into anything kinky,” she said as her eyes swept from Sam to Dean and then back again. 

“You can start by giving me your name. We don’t want anything from you. It’s just . . . you look like you could use a break. But, if you don’t . . . it’s fine,” he said as he shrugged and started to turn away from the woman.

“Tiffany, my name’s Tiffany,” she said.

Sam smiled, knowing he had her. “So, do you need a ride? Going somewhere?” He asked, cocking his head to one side as he waited for her answer.

“No, not really. Just trying to find someplace that feels right, ya know?” 

“Yeah, I know. Look, we don’t have much, but we can at least give you a place to sleep tonight and a ride outta town tomorrow. If you want,” he said as he raised his hands in front of himself trying to appear non-threatening.

Tiffany’s face split into a smile. “That would be great. Beats sleeping in an ally or a doorstep. Thanks,” she said as she followed Sam back to the waiting car.

Dean adjusted the mirror so he could keep an eye on things; be at the ready if things went south and Sam needed him. He could only hear murmuring voices, not the actual words that were spoken between Sam and the girl. He watched as Sam walked back with the girl, opened the rear passenger side door, and helped her in before closing it and getting in, taking his normal seat next to Dean. 

“Dean, this is Tiffany. She’s alone and has no place to go. Tiffany, this is my brother Dean,” Sam said as he shifted in his seat. “I offered her a safe place to sleep and a ride outta town with us tomorrow. That's okay?” Sam asked as he turned his hazel eyes on Dean before looking over his shoulder at their passenger. 

“Sure, no problem,” Dean said as he flashed her one of his dazzling smiles in the rearview mirror.

She smiled back, giving him a doe-eyed look that didn’t go unnoticed by Sam. 

Dean saw him tense from it out of the corner of his eye and placed a soothing hand on Sam’s arm. “Don’t worry, all yours,” Dean whispered to him and he felt Sam relax next to him.

“Well, you’re in luck. We’ve got plenty of room for you. We’re staying at a motel at the edge of town. You’re welcome to stay if you want. No strings attached,” Dean said, flashing her another heart-stopping smile. She smiled at him and settled back into the seat, closing her eyes. The movement of the car lulled her into a light doze as they drove back to the motel.

Sam eyed the sleeping girl and then looked at Dean. “Tomorrow?” Sam asked and Dean nodded yes in agreement.

“We’ll get some sleep, so we’ll be fresh in the morning. Besides, you want to be rested, don’t you?” Dean asked him, seeing Sam’s hands flexing, knowing Sam was feeling the itch to play. Dean rested a hand over Sam’s quieting him and his movements. They drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence; Dean’s hand still on Sam’s, comforting and calming him with his touch.

Dean pulled the car into the motel parking lot. The place they were staying at this time consisted of small cabins instead of a strip motel, with rooms stacked one next to the other. Sam reached over the back of his seat and gently shook Tiffany awake. 

“We’re here,” he said smiling at her.

She stretched, looking around, and smiled back at Sam. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said sheepishly.

“No problem. Come on, there’s room enough for us all in the cabin. The sign states  _ Reed’s Motel _ , but they’re cabins. Weird, right?” Sam said with a chuckle. “We’re heading out tomorrow, traveling to North Dakota. You’re welcome to tag along, right Dean?” Sam said, not taking his eyes off of the girl. 

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean replied, flashing the girl another disarming smile. 

“Thanks, that would be great,” she said, getting out of the car. 

Sam grabbed her backpack and walked her inside while Dean locked up the Impala. He looked around, making sure no one had been watching them before following Sam and Tiffany. Once inside, Dean made sure the door was locked before joining Sam and their guest. He found Sam giving her the nickel tour; two beds, a pull-out couch, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. They had their backs to him as he looked over at Sam and Tiffany. He could hear Sam asking her where she was from.

“I’m from a little town called Vista West, Wyoming. Not much there so I left.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sam responded.

Dean tuned them out as he walked over to the couch and tossed the cushions aside to convert it into the sleeper-bed for himself. He walked into the bathroom, washed up for the night and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and returned to the couch, settling on it into a comfortable position.

“Tiffany, you can take my bed,” Dean offered. His eyes ticked over at Sam before they settled on Tiffany.

She looked over at Dean, wide-eyed. “Oh, no. I can’t do that.” She took a few steps toward Dean. “You’re nice enough to offer me a ride and a place to sleep tonight. I can’t take your bed. The couch is fine.”

Sam came up behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t sleep much. He would end up on the couch anyway.”

“If you’re sure . . .” She watched as the brothers nodded their heads. She picked up her bag and tossed it on the bed as Sam went into the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later ready for bed.

“All yours,” Sam said to Tiffany as he passed her on the way to his bed.

“Thanks.” Grabbing her clothes, she slipped into the bathroom. When the shower started, Sam was on Dean in a heartbeat. He straddled Dean’s thighs, leaned in, and hungrily kissed him. Sam took Dean’s hand and placed it on his semi-hard cock.

“God, I want you,” Sam said as he pressed his lips to Dean’s neck. “Let you fuck me right now. See if you can get off before Tiffany catches us,” Sam said as he moved back and forth against Dean’s thighs and crotch.

Dean groaned at Sam’s words. “Sam, play nice,” Dean said as he licked a stripe from Sam’s earlobe to his pulse point.

“Dean,” Sam breathed out as he rocked himself harder against Dean. They heard the shower shut off and Sam slid off his brother and onto the edge of the sleeper couch. Sam kissed him again before whispering into Dean’s ear. “Gonna be in that bed, thinking of you. Touching myself, wishing it was you.” He heard Dean’s groan and smiled before he forced himself away from Dean and walked over to his bed as Tiffany appeared at the bathroom door.

“God, I needed that. Feels so good to get clean. Thanks for that and for letting me stay with you,” she said as she slipped into bed and pulled the covers up around herself. 

“No problem. Let’s get some sleep so we’re rested for tomorrow,” Sam said as he turned off the bedside lamp.

The night passed without issue. Both Sam and Dean managed to settle down and get a few hours of sleep. Dean was up first. He’d showered, shaved, dressed, and had righted the couch when Tiffany rolled over and sat up.

“Morning,” she called to him softly.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Dean asked, not really caring but he made the effort of small talk. 

She stretched, arms raised as she yawned. “Like the dead,” she said.

The covers on the bed next to her rustled as Sam rolled over and sat up. He threw back the covers, got up, and walked into the bathroom. When the door closed, Tiffany got up and walked over to Dean. She smiled up at him coyly. 

“I know you said no strings attached but I feel like I should show you my appreciation,” she said as she grabbed his hand and placed it on one of her breasts. Dean tried to pull his hand away as Sam opened the door to find them together. Sam’s eyes narrowed into slits as he eyed them. Dean didn’t miss the look of hatred Sam shot at the girl. Then Sam leveled his hazel orbs at him, looked him up and down. Sam’s eyes were stormy, anger, and possessiveness swirling in them as he turned away from them. There was no telling what Sam might do when he was like that. The last person to touch Dean had ended up singing soprano, courtesy of Sam and one of his knives. 

Tiffany blushed and murmured a ‘sorry’ to Dean as he pulled away. She ducked her head and wouldn’t look in Sam’s direction as she slunk back to her bed to grab her backpack.

“Uhm, I’m gonna go get us some coffee and bagels,” Dean said as he grabbed his coat and keys before he was out the door.

As soon as the door was closed behind Dean, Sam was rounding on Tiffany. “You slut!” Sam screamed at her as he backhanded her. In shock, she fell back against the bed. “You think you can just throw yourself at him? Shake your tits and ass at him? That he’ll screw someone like you?” Sam pulled her up from the bed and threw her against the wall. He heard the thud her body made as she connected with the wall but it did nothing to stop the rage he felt building within himself. “Dean is mine. You don’t get to touch him. No one touches him but me!” He growled at Tiffany. He grabbed her by the shoulders, slammed her against the door jam repeatedly until she was knocked unconscious. He let go of her and her body crumpled to the floor. 

When Dean returned, he found Sam calmly cleaning the room. He saw Tiffany’s body on the bed, arms and legs tied and a gag in her mouth. 

“Sam?” Dean questioned as he placed the coffees and bagels on the table. Sam looked up at him as he washed away the traces of Tiffany’s blood from the wooden door jam. 

“Had to Dean. She touched you,” Sam simply said as he scrubbed away the last traces of the blood.

Dean walked over to Sam and grabbed his wrist, and pulled him up and into his arms.

Sam leaned into him. “I love you. You’re mine,” Sam said before he kissed Dean.

“She may have touched me but you’re the only one I want,” Dean said as he returned the kiss, biting at Sam’s lower lip before pulling away. He held Sam at arm’s length. “Are we all set here?” 

“Yeah, just finished. All we gotta do is clear out.” Sam turned away from Dean, bending down to pick up the towel he’d been cleaning with. 

Dean looked at him with a smile on his face. “You know, you can’t attack everyone who lays a hand on me.” His voice had an air of amusement to it.

Sam shrugged his shoulders at that. “Yeah but this is different. She’s supposed to be my toy and toys don’t get to touch what’s mine,” Sam said as he glanced over at the unconscious woman on one of the beds. He stepped closer to Dean and leaned into him. “I want you to fuck me,” he said in a low heated voice filled with want for his brother.

Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam’s cheek, stroking it tenderly, showing his affection for his brother. “Can’t right now. We gotta get moving. Once we’re far from here, I will.” He saw the pout on Sam’s lips and kissed him. “Don’t pout. I always keep my word when it comes to you,” he said as he pulled away from Sam. He smiled when he saw the blush on Sam’s cheeks. 

“Yeah, you do,” Sam murmured to him as he brushed his lips against Dean’s before moving away to make sure that Tiffany’s belongings were packed in her backpack. He shoved the towel into it; hiding the evidence of her blood he had cleaned up.

They finished packing and moved their belongings out to the car before backing it up to the cabin to move Tiffany out without being seen. Dean kept watch while Sam carried out Tiffany’s body wrapped in a blanket. This way, if anyone saw them, they could lie and say she wasn’t feeling well should anyone ask. Sam dumped her on the backseat and forced the gag back in between her lips. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. 

Dean did a walk-through of the cabin, making sure nothing had been overlooked; no evidence of what Sam had done, nothing to indicate they had even been there. Satisfied that the cabin was clean; no evidence of them or Tiffany’s blood anywhere to be found, he tossed the key on the bed and made sure the door was locked before getting behind the wheel of the Impala.

A half-hour into the drive, Tiffany stirred enough to wake and panic. Sam heard her struggling against the rope that bound her hands and feet and craned his neck to look at her. He twisted his body in his seat so he was able to lean over it and pull the blanket back from her.

A cruel smile came to face as he peered down at her. “Oh, look who’s finally awake,” Sam said casually as wide, terror-filled eyes stared up at him. She tried to say something but it was muffled by the gag in her mouth. Sam reached over and yanked down the gag, letting it drop against her throat.

“Please, I won’t say a word. I’m sorry I came on to your brother,” she said in between sobs.

“You think this is what that’s all about? No, that just sealed your fate. I had this planned the moment I saw you. I knew you’d be the perfect toy for me to play with,” Sam said, shoving the gag back between her lips as she opened her mouth to scream.

“We’re almost there. Another twenty minutes to the abandoned warehouse. Then you can play all you want,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road. He felt Sam slide closer next to him and lay his head on his shoulder.

“Can’t wait,” Sam said in a far off sounding voice as he closed his eyes. He let the movement of the car lull him into a dream-like peace as he breathed in Dean’s scent. 

They had found the abandoned warehouse while out on a job. They had been hunting a vampire that had been wreaking havoc in the town they had been staying in at the time. The vampire had been feeding on the town folk but had been smart enough to hold up away from his feeding ground. They had watched the vampire come and go before finally ending its life as it tried to break into the local blood bank in town. They had gone back to the vampire’s nest to make sure there weren’t more of the bloodsuckers. The place was empty, save for what the creature had left behind. 

Sam had looked around the warehouse, searching the place from top to bottom, and then had joined Dean as he was going through the vampire’s things. “Dean, this place is perfect. It has everything I would need if I had a new toy to play with.” He had a far-off look in his eyes as he spoke. “We can hide the car out back. It would be hidden from the street; not that anyone would be around here. All we’d have to do is set up something to use as a table for me instead of dragging everything in.” He couldn’t hide the grin on his face as he spoke. 

“Yeah, Sam?” Dean questioned as he stood up, backing away from the meager belongings he had been poking at; a sleeping bag, a few articles of clothing, and some books; nothing of importance as far as he was concerned. “Show me,” he said as he held his hand out to Sam, letting Sam lead the way so he could look over the warehouse himself. He needed to make sure Sam was right; that the place was perfect and safe for them. That Sam wouldn’t be disturbed while he played. When he was satisfied that the place was indeed perfect, he turned to Sam. “You’re right Sam, the place is great. We can use it if you find a suitable toy,” he agreed and was rewarded with a needy kiss from Sam. 

Dean circled the area of the warehouse before stopping at it, making sure no one was around to see him pick the lock or pull the car inside. He then circled around on foot, doing another check on the area to make sure no one was around to interrupt Sam when he started to play with his toy. Once satisfied that the area was actually abandoned, he slipped back inside to work on getting the power and water reconnected. He’d learned a few tricks over the years on how to hack into the power and water grids so they had what they needed when they had to squat in an abandoned building. When he’d accomplished that, he went about setting up a makeshift table for Sam to work off of. 

He opened the back door of the Impala and dragged Tiffany’s squirming body from the backseat. She tried to kick at him with her bound feet. “Cut the shit,” he spat at her as he kicked her in the side. She whimpered and stopped kicking, letting her body go lax. He picked her up, hefted her body over his shoulder, and walked her over to the table he’d created. He dumped her body on the table and heard her whimper as her body hit against the hard surface. 

He produced his knife from his pocket and cut the rope from her feet only to grab one foot and secure it to the table before doing the same to the other. He moved to stand by her head, cut the rope from her hands, and grabbed one as she tried to punch him. He chuckled at her attempts as he secured one wrist, then the other. “Nice try, but you’re out of your depth here, sweetheart,” Dean said and then patted her cheek.

He checked the bonds to make sure she was secure, making sure there was no way she would escape. He ran the knife along her bound arm before putting it away. “Oh, Sam is going to have such fun with you,” he said before walking away. He heard her attempts at screaming from behind the gag in her mouth as he walked away to wake Sam up. As he opened the door to leave the building, he could no longer hear her muffled screams. He stopped in front of Sam’s side of the car, opened the door, and leaned in to run a hand along Sam’s cheek.

“We’re here,” Dean said as he pulled away from Sam.

Dean’s whiskey sounding voice called to him, dragging him into full consciousness. Sam was awakened by lips pressed to the side of his head, kissing him. “Hum?” Sam sat up, rubbed at his eyes and looked around. He found himself, along with Dean and the car outside the abandoned warehouse, and smiled. No one would be the wiser as to what was about to happen. He could play with his latest toy as Dean looked on, watching him, and then Dean would fuck him. Just like he’d promised before they had left the cabin. 

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re here,” Dean said as he pulled away from Sam. 

Dean held out a hand to him, helping him to his feet and out of the car and followed Dean inside. Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder and his breath caught in his chest. Dean had set up a makeshift table for him; had his toy secured to it so he could start playing. He felt a shudder rip through his body at how happy he was that Dean had thought ahead; had taken care of this for him. 

“Dean,” Sam gasped and took a few steps past Dean to take in the sight before him. Dean had found two sawhorses and some wooden planks. Dean had lashed the planks to the sawhorse, creating a perfect platform for him to work on. Next to his toy was a two drawer filing cabinet on which Dean had laid his knives on. Dean had apparently spread out his knife roll, making it easier for him to reach out for whatever knife he was in need of. “Thank you,” Sam whispered. He felt Dean’s hands settle on his hips; Dean’s muscular body pressing against his. He could already feel Dean’s semi-hard cock rubbing against his ass. 

“Shh, wanted to do this for you, so you could play as soon as I woke you up. Your toy is ready and waiting for you,” Dean said as he laid a slap to Sam’s ass.

Sam turned, smiled at him over his shoulder before he made his way over to his toy. He watched as it struggled against its bindings; knowing Dean had secured it well. There was no way the toy was getting free.

“Struggle all you want, Dean’s very good at making sure my toys are secured to whatever table I’m using so they don’t get away.” Sam reached out and pulled the gag from between her lips. He watched as she worked the muscles of her cramped jaw. Sam ran a hand down her arm as he looked her over, a wide smile forming on his face.

“Please, please don’t do this. You can just let me go. I won’t say anything. I’ll disappear, you’ll never see me again.” Tiffany pleaded with him in a hoarse voice.

“Let you go?” Sam looked at her, confusion registering on his face. “Where’s the fun in that?” Sam asked as he turned to pick up one of the knives Dean had laid out for him to use. “No, I want to play. See your blood dripping from your wounds. Hear your screams.” He licked his lips in anticipation. 

Tiffany whimpered at the words, hearing the dark coldness of his voice. She tried to struggle again, only managing to rub her bound skin raw. She hissed at the pain and then whimpered in frustration. When the knife Sam was holding glinted in the overhead light, her eyes widened and she resumed her struggling. “No, please . . .”

“Shh, wanna know a secret?” Sam asked as he leaned over her, getting her attention, and ending her struggles. He smiled at her, a cold calculating smile. “You’re not my first. But I think you might be my favorite. I don’t usually get to know my toys before I play with them. Course, you pissed me off by touching my brother,” Sam said as he slid the blade of his knife over the skin of her forearm and watched as a line of blood began to bead up along the cut. “He’s mine, you see. And you touched what doesn’t belong to you. So, I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.” 

He forced the knife in deeper; he heard the screams of terror and agony coming from his toy and he smiled. He loved to hear those sounds as he played. When the skin on the toy's arms was cut into strips like ribbons, strewed across her exposed muscles, he moved down to its leg; starting the cut on the upper thigh, working his way down to the calf. He watched, fascinated by the rise and fall of its chest, breathing coming in short burst of gasps. He was mesmerized by the blood; the richness of its color. the smell of copper hung in the air and he breathed in deeply, savoring it. He only stopped when he heard Dean’s voice, calling to him from somewhere far off. He forced himself to focus on Dean. Dean was speaking to him. He turned toward his brother’s voice. He saw a look of concern on Dean’s face. Sam scrunched his nose up at the look. Why was Dean looking at him like that? Had he done something wrong? He had only been playing with his toy. Maybe Dean wanted to join him? He cocked his head to the side and listened to Dean’s soothing voice. He finally heard the words Dean was speaking.

“Sam, I think you broke your toy,” Dean said softly to his brother. 

The screaming had stopped and they were engulfed in silence. Dean didn’t mind the silence but he knew Sam preferred the screams; the crying and the begging his toys gave him. Sam worked so hard to draw those sounds from the toy at hand. Dean felt the rage bubbling up at the fact that the toy was now quiet. That was not what Sam needed or wanted. That was not what he wanted for Sam either. The quiet always made Sam unhappy and that was not something Dean liked to see. An unhappy Sam was not allowed, not if Dean was around. He watched his brother carefully. He waited to see how Sam would react. 

Dean watched the frown form on those soft lips. He watched as the light went out of Sam's blazing hazel eyes. Sam looked over at him, unhappiness written clearly across his face. The sadness broke his heart. He hated to see that look on his brother’s face. He’d do anything to see the smile gracing those lips he kissed red and swollen every day. He wanted to put the light back into the eyes that looked at him with such desire, need and hunger. He watched as Sam straightened up, still holding the bloody filet knife in his right hand. Sam’s left hand poked at the toy, a forefinger prodding at its stomach. Dean heard a shallow intake of breath and smiled. The toy was still alive. Sam would still be able to play.

Dean walked over to Sam and grabbed him by his left hand, pulling him away from the table that held the toy. Sam hovered momentarily, still holding the knife before he gave in, letting Dean pull his attention away from his toy. 

“Later, Sam. It needs some time to regain some strength. Then you can play with it again.” 

Sam nodded, knowing Dean was right. Playtime wasn’t over, just on a time out. He followed Dean, still holding the knife and he watched as the blood dripped from it; leaving red circles like a trail from the toy to where they were. Easy enough to trace back to later when he could play again. Dean held out his hand to Sam, waiting for him to give him the knife. He did willingly. Dean would keep his knife safe until it was time to play again. He never had to worry about that. Dean always kept him safe. Always looked out for him. Always took care of him, never letting him want for anything. Dean was perfect in that way. 

Letting go of Sam’s hand, Dean turned and walked to the desk he had discovered along with two filing cabinets. One he had moved next to Sam’s toy so he could use it for his knives. The two drawer filing cabinet now held towels and on the floor, he had left a box of salt and a can of gasoline; tools of the trade, along with two gallons of water and one of their duffle bags. One towel was laid out to rest Sam’s knives on. He picked up one of the towels and wiped the knife clean before carefully laying it down. Then he turned to Sam, wiping any traces of blood from his hands, arms, and face. When he was done, Dean let the towel drop to the ground. Not caring about it at the moment; he’d pick it up later and burn it with everything else when Sam was really done playing. 

Dean turned to see Sam leaning against the edge of the desk and he felt his dick twitch. Sam had the front of his jeans open, one hand down them, rubbing himself. The other was outstretched toward Dean, beckoning for him to join in the fun. Cocking an eyebrow Dean clasped the hand and felt Sam pulling him closer. Still holding Dean’s hand, he brought it to his other one, wanting Dean’s hand to join his. Not wanting to say no, because he would never say no to Sam, he let his hand trail down Sam’s hip, moving to join Sam’s hand that was already stroking his own dick. 

Sam moaned at the feel of Dean’s hand on his body; fingers moving to touch him. God he wanted Dean, right fucking now. 

“Fucking want you.” He heard Dean grunt his response and pulled their hands out of his clothing so he could turn around. He felt Dean’s hands on his hips, pulling his jeans and briefs down. He felt the chill of the metal desk against his burning flesh and shuddered. 

“Dean,” he gasped out between pants of breath. He felt a hand at the nape of his neck, pressing him down against the desktop and he pushed his ass out. He felt Dean’s rock hard dick between his ass, rutting against him. 

“Fucking tease.” Sam hissed, looking over his shoulder to see Dean smile at him. He heard the snick of the plastic cap of the lube being opened and then heard plastic bouncing against metal as Dean tossed the bottle down. 

“Really? Does this feel like I’m teasing?” Dean growled at him as two slicked fingers were pushed into him. Sam grunted in response to the rough intrusion of Dean’s fingers in his ass. He felt himself being lifted up as Dean’s slicked fingers slid into him and he hissed at the burn. The fingers worked him open; in and out, scissoring him and he cried out. “Fuck me, Dean!” He heard Dean’s throaty chuckle in his ear; it felt like Dean was taunting him. “Please,” he begged.

“Not yet,” Dean hissed.

Sam groaned in frustration; Dean was teasing him. He snaked a hand between himself and the desk, attempting to grab his own dick when Dean stopped him. 

“No, you come on my cock,” Dean growled. 

Sam pushed back on the fingers in his ass, trying to get them in further; needing them to hit against his prostate so he could come. “Dean, Dean, Dean . . .” Sam chanted not realizing he’d been calling out his brother’s name until Dean spoke. 

“Tell me. Tell me what you want, Sam.” Dean’s voice was rough sounding when he spoke.

Dean’s hand on the back of his neck squeezed tighter. “You, your dick fucking me. Please . . .” His words died on his lips as Dean withdrew his fingers, only to replace them with what Sam had asked for. In one push, he felt Dean’s cock filling him. 

Dean groaned as he bottomed out; Sam’s channel clamping down on his cock. Not giving Sam time to adjust to being filled, he began thrusting shallowly into Sam, teasing his lover.

“Yes!” Sam screamed as Dean began to rock back and forth in him, not giving him a chance to adjust. Dean knew he liked it rough, even brutal at times. Dean pulled out, leaving only the head of his dick in before snapping his hips forward, thrusting back in. Sam’s hands scraped against the desktop, searching for something to grab onto as his brother fucked him hard. He felt Dean’s hand move from his neck down to his hip. Both hands dug into his hips and he knew he’d have bruises in the morning. He shuddered at the thought, Dean’s fingers marking him, making him his. Sam straightened up, pressing his back against Dean’s chest. He turned his head, searching for Dean; needing to taste Dean’s lips, his flesh. Sam twisted himself at his waist, trying to get to Dean. and grunted in frustration when he couldn’t move further; he was pinned between Dean’s body and the desk.

Knowing what Sam wanted, Dean leaned forward, planting his lips on Sam’s. Sam’s tongue flicked out, licking over Dean’s lips before demanding entry into his mouth. Dean sucked Sam’s tongue into his mouth. The room was filled with their moans and skin slapping against skin as Dean slammed into Sam’s body, hitting Sam’s prostate with every forward thrust.

The pace that Dean was fucking him at was rapid; hitting his prostate with every thrust, driving him out of his mind. Sam’s arm came up, around Dean’s neck as they broke their kiss, both needing to breathe. Sam turned his head, resting it in the crook of Dean’s neck. “Gonna come, Dean. Almost there,” Sam panted out between Dean’s thrusts. 

“Gonna make you come, Sam,” Dean grunted as his pace quickened.

Sam hadn’t thought it possible for Dean to fuck him harder. His eyes rolled back in his head at the intensity that Dean used to pound into him. Sam felt the tingling at the base of his spine as his balls drew up against his body. He screamed out Dean’s name as he came, spilling over himself and the desk. He let go of Dean, falling forward, bracing his arms against the desk as he rode out his orgasm. 

Dean fucked into Sam, chasing his own release. His hands grasped at Sam’s hips as his thrusts became erratic and then he was coming, his hips against Sam’s ass, his dick fully sheathed in his brother. He pitched forward, his weight resting on his Sam as he rode out his release, thrusting again and again until he was spent. He leaned heavily on Sam, not wanting to separate himself from Sam. He felt Sam’s hands on his, entwining Sam’s fingers with his. Slowly he pulled out of Sam and heard him grunt in protest. He ground his pelvis one more time against Sam as he forced himself upright. 

A whimper escaped Sam’s lips at the loss of his brother’s cock. Sam looked back at Dean and his breath caught in his throat. Dean was so beautiful right now, with a blissed-out look on his face, his green eyes dilated, barely any iris showing. Sam stood and turned to Dean, drawing him into a needy, hungry kiss. 

“Fuck that was good,” Sam said as he pulled away; reaching for a towel, only for Dean to pull it out of his hands and for Dean to clean them both with it before dropping it onto the discarded blood-stained towel. 

Dean snickered at him, his lips turning into a sly smile. “Can never deny you,” he said as he pulled his pants up, redressing. Dean helped Sam with his clothes, pulling his jeans and briefs up over his ass, and helped him redress. 

Sam leaned into him, letting Dean take care of him. “That’s because you belong to me,” Sam said, his voice never wavering in its conviction of those spoken words. 

Dean smiled, knowing the words Sam just said were true. He was Sam’s. Just like Sam was his. There was no one else for either of them. 

Sam grabbed him by the shoulder, digging his fingers into the flesh. “Say it, Dean.” 

Dean heard the possessiveness in his brother’s voice and a smile spread across his face. He turned away from his brother, not answering him. Sam sprung on him like a tightly wound coil. He felt Sam slam his body into his as Sam forced him up against the desk; Sam’s full weight against him, pinning him. 

Sam had nearly four inches of height over his brother, as well as more muscle mass and he used it to his advantage. Sam looked down into green eyes. His hazel ones sparked with anger at Dean’s refusal to answer him. He leaned into Dean, grinding his body against him. “Say it!” Sam said, his voice raised in anger. He wanted to hear Dean admit he belonged to him, even though he knew it was the truth. He just needed to hear it. Wanted to hear Dean say the words. Sam ground his teeth as Dean remained silent. He felt himself shudder as Dean’s eyes seemed to stare straight into his dark soul; carving out a place for himself. They were forever entwined; one could never exist without the other. They truly belonged to one another. 

“You first,” Dean snarked back at his brother. 

“Provoking me, Dean?” He bit down on the flesh of Dean’s neck and heard the words he wanted Dean to say. “I belong to you.” Not removing his teeth, he grunted in response. He needed to leave his mark on what was his. He needed Dean to remember he never shared him with anyone, ever. He tightened his jaw and heard Dean gasp at the pain. Finally, he pulled back, admiring the bite mark he had left. He smiled, liking what he saw. He licked his lips, tasting Dean on his tongue. A taste he loved; could never get enough of. Sam’s gaze had not wavered off his brother; he enjoyed looking at him. Dean was beautiful, but never more so when Dean had his mark on him. Sam forced his leg in between Dean’s, granting him more access to his body. Sam reached up with his hands, resting them on either side of Dean’s face, tilting his head up and back so he could kiss him. And he did until they were both panting again from lack of oxygen. “I belong to you, Dean. Always have and always will.” Sam took a step back, pulling Dean back from the desk. He looked on as Dean smiled at him, a happiness settling over him from hearing Dean’s words. 

A smile came to Dean’s kiss swollen lips. “See, not so hard to admit it, was it?” Dean asked as he cocked his head to the side.

Sam leaned in again, capturing Dean’s lower lips between his teeth. He sucked on the already swollen flesh. Opening his mouth, he let go of Dean’s lip only bite along Dean’s jaw. “You’re mine and I’m yours,” he reminded Dean and then nipped at the exposed column of Dean’s neck. It was always a source of temptation for him. 

Their intimacy was cut short as a ragged moan rang through the room. Sam’s head snapped to the side, listening to the sound of the moan as it turned into a whimper. A cruel smile spread across Sam’s face. His toy was awake; had regained some strength and he wanted to play again. Sam closed his eyes, savoring the sounds coming from his toy. They were so enchanting to him. He wished he could record the sounds. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t take the risk of having it heard by the wrong set of ears. Something that Dean had taught him. Savor the sounds, the feeling of playing while he could. Never record what he does; what they do. That way, there was nothing to be discovered. No souvenirs. Another thing Dean had taught him. Memorize his playtime but never take anything of his toys. He had tried to in the beginning; he had wanted to keep a trinket from his first toy. Dean had found him attempting to cut a lock of hair off his toy and made him stop. At first, he’d been angry. He’d been ready to strike back at Dean, make him bleed until Dean explained it was a way to get caught. Never have anything on his body or packed away that could lead anyone back to his toys. Dean was doing it to keep him safe. He couldn’t run the risk of losing Sam if anyone found out. 

Dean pulled away and Sam felt a spark of anger at him. How dare he pull away. Sam’s eyes narrowed to slits as he fought the anger building within. He watched as Dean walked over to the filing cabinet and picked up the filet knife. Walking back, Dean handed it to him and smiled. “Thanks,” Sam said as the anger subsided. He turned to walk away and was met with a playful slap to his ass. “Go have fun. I’ll watch you,” Dean called to him. Sam closed his eyes at the words and felt contentment wash over him. With a smile on his lips, he walked back to his toy. 

Sam ran his hand through the toy’s long black hair. “Are you ready to continue playing?” Sam asked, hardly containing the excitement in his voice. He was met with the ragged sound of the toy’s voice, “No, please . . .” Sam had stopped listening to her pleas once he had started to play. The words were meaningless to him. The only things he cared about at that moment were the screams and the blood. He loved to watch the blood bubble up and pool before it ran down an arm or leg or even over a stomach. He never touched the face. If he marred the face, it might make it difficult for his toy to scream. He looked over his work, the skin had been cut away from muscle on its arms and legs. He wanted to work on the stomach next. He knew he could cut the flesh away in long strips. Excitement thrummed through his body. He loved playtime and the knowledge that Dean was watching him, his every move, every flick of the knife. He always made sure to draw the slicing out; he loved to hear Dean’s sharp intake of breath as his hands worked at perfecting his cuts. 

Sam closed his eyes as his mind was flooded with a particularly fond memory of his. In the beginning, his cuts had been tentative, slow, and clumsy. Dean had walked up behind him, wrapped his body around Sam's larger one, and had stopped him. Dean’s arms had encircled him as Dean had reached out to take Sam's hands in his. He could still remember the smell of Dean, sweat, and musk mixed together with the smell of blood. It was a heady smell that pulled at him, made him grind his ass back into Dean’s body. Dean's low husky voice spoke to him through his lust-filled mind. 

“Steady your grip. Now, in one movement, cut in and slice up, like this,” Dean had said as he demonstrated the action he had been explaining.

He watched, stunned at Dean's fluid motion. He'd never seen Dean like this before, so masculine yet caring in the way he taught Sam. If Sam could have loved him more, that was the moment it would have happened; the moment Sam knew that they were meant for each other. Sam turned to Dean when Dean had withdrawn his hands from him and whimpered from the loss. He needed to touch Dean; become one with him. His lips sought out Dean's and they had shared a languid kiss. Sam's lips moved down to the hollow of Dean's neck and he licked at the skin, needing to taste. He had closed his eyes as he heard the moan coming from Dean, felt the vibration against his lips and he had hummed his approval. He moved his head slightly, letting it rest in the crook of Dean's neck. A spark of possessiveness had been ignited in him. Before he could even fight it, he had bit down on Dean's neck. He had claimed what was his. 

He had heard the gasp escape Dean's lips and felt Dean rock his hips against him. Pulling back, Sam looked into wide, green, lust-blown eyes. “Mine.” Dean blinked at him, letting the words penetrate his fogged over mind. “Mine, Dean. No one else touches you. Ever. I'll kill them,” Sam had said as his hand moved down, cupping Dean's semi-hard dick. “Do you understand me?” Sam had asked, a hint of anger in his voice at the possibility that Dean might fight this. The thought had never crossed his mind until now that Dean might not want this, that he might feel differently. 

“Yes.” Dean's word had barely been above a whisper when he spoke. A smile lit up Sam's features at the answer he had needed to hear. “Good. Because this is only for you.” he had said, as his hand made a circular motion over his own body. “No one gets to touch what's yours, Dean.” 

His toy made a sound, a high pitched keening, that pulled him from his thoughts. Sam turned his attention back to his toy and went back to slicing and listening to the screams. Happiness took hold of him; a euphoric high as he looked over his work. The toy’s screams died to whimpers and then to throaty gurgles as the life started to drain out of it. Sam watched as its eyes began to turn from a tortured brown to glassy and unseeing. He bit his bottom lip, knowing playtime was over. It was no longer fun when the toy didn't interact with him. He looked up, saw Dean push himself away from the desk, and walk over to him. He watched as Dean stopped long enough to grab his hunting knife from among Sam's tools before Dean made his way next to him. 

He handed the hunting knife to Sam as Sam dropped the filet knife. With two hands, Sam held the knife over the toy’s chest. He hesitated, waiting to see if Dean would help him in this final act of play. To his surprise and glee, he watched as Dean produced a switchblade from the front pocket of his jeans. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the six-inch blade open. The glint off the blade was dazzling and Sam longed to work with the knife. But, he knew this was Dean’s knife to work with. Dean had already given him his hunting knife. Dean never let anyone touch his knife or his gun; not the ones that mattered to him, like his Colt. But, Dean had graced him with the use of his hunting knife. It was just another way Dean took care of him; making sure he had the tools he needed for his playtime. 

Dean watched Sam, waiting for him to make the first move. Sam raised the knife, holding it above his toy’s heart before bringing it down with all his strength. The toy bucked against the table but didn't die. Sam was focused on the blood pooling around the knife. He’d hit the heart but it was a slow death, bleeding out. Movement caught his eye; the glint of the knife as it moved in Dean’s hand. Dean’s free hand tipped the toy’s head back while the one holding the knife snaked across its throat. Arterial blood sprayed, hitting them both, coloring them in a mist of red. Sam rocked back on his feet, as his body vibrated with energy. Another kill they had shared together; further cementing their bond. Pulling the knife out was easier than the plunge in, Sam pulled it with an easy motion, rocking himself off balance and Dean reached out for him, steadying him. Dean was his rock, his constant, grounding him and keeping his head focused. Dean pulled him in for a kiss, tongue running across his lips before Sam granted him access to whatever he wanted. Dean kissed him until their lungs were on fire from lack of oxygen. Pulling away Dean looked at him. 

****

“Come on, we need to clean up.” 

Sam nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah.” 

Dean stripped his shirt off and wiped down their knives. Later, when they're safely tucked away for the night he would make sure they were cleaned properly, destroying any DNA traces from Sam’s toy. Right now, his blades and Sam’s knives looked like any ordinary knives that hunters used to dress their kills with. “Shirt, Sam,” Dean reminded Sam when he hadn’t moved. 

Sam looked at Dean; eyes glazed over, still enjoying the high from his kill. Sam grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head and off. Handing it over to Dean, he wandered over to the filing cabinet and desk. On the ground were two one-gallon jugs of water. He opened one, thoroughly soaked one of the towels, and washed his face and arms of any traces of blood. He brought a wet towel over to Dean so he could wash up before he wrapped up his tools and placed them in the duffle bag Dean had brought in earlier. He pulled out two clean shirts and dressed in one. The other, he walked over to Dean. He helped Dean get into the clean shirt. Sam knew Dean could dress himself but this was his way of taking care of Dean. Plus, he just needed to touch Dean, reconnect with him. Dean smiled at him and he felt his heart flutter and his breath hitch as Dean smiled his thanks at him. Dean looked at him, making sure there were no traces of blood on him before doing the same for Dean. 

“Did you put away your tools?” Dean asked as he walked over to the duffle bag. He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway. He heard Sam’s ‘yeah’ as he crouched down to look through the bag, pulled out a book of matches, and slid them into the front pocket of his jeans. He grabbed the salt and the can of gasoline before standing to his full height. Walking back over to Sam’s toy, he poured the contents of the gas can over the toy and tossed the discarded towel he'd used earlier along with the towels they had just used and the blanket the toy had been wrapped up in on top. He emptied the salt by pouring the contents over the body and then tossed the box onto the growing pile. The last thing he added was the toy’s backpack. 

Satisfied with his work, he turned on his heel and retraced his steps back to the desk. He grabbed the bag, hefted it over his shoulder, and reached for Sam who had picked up the empty gas can. Together, they walked back to the car. He took the can from Sam, placed it, and the bag in the trunk before closing it. “Be right back,” he said to Sam and disappeared into the warehouse. He stopped in front of the broken toy. A smile curled his lips up as he looked over his brother's work. Another masterpiece, he thought to himself. It was such a shame he had to burn it in order to keep them both safe. But that was what he had to do, he had to keep them safe, to keep them together. He made a small sad sigh as he stood next to the pile, slid his hand into his pocket, and pulled out the matches. His lips twisted up into a smile as he pushed open the matchbook cover, tore off a match, and struck it against the course strip, igniting the match tip. He used the lit match to ignite the rest before tossing the matchbook onto the pile. He stepped back as the lit matches landed on the gas, setting the pile aflame. He watched, making sure the pile was fully engulfed before he turned and jogged back to the car. He motioned for Sam to get in so he could move the car away from the warehouse. He chuckled to himself, gotta love these out of the way towns with their abandoned properties. It was so easy to find a safe place for them to play; so easy to burn it to the ground, Dean thought to himself as he pulled the car around the building from where they had been parked. He stopped the car a short distance away, letting the Impala idle, and turned to Sam. He took his brother's hand in his and kissed the palm. “I hate doing that. Burning your work.” Dean looked at Sam with a sad smile on his face.

Sam slid a hand through Dean’s hair. “I know you do it to keep me safe. Keep us safe. Besides, you taught me it's a necessity. I have my memories and you,” he said fondly. 

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Dean murmured as they waited to make sure the warehouse caught fire before driving off. He needed to put as many miles between them and this area as possible before they stopped to sleep. He ended up putting around five hundred miles on the odometer before he thought about looking for a motel. He was tired and hungry and wanted a shower, but more importantly, they both needed to wipe down the backseat of the car and clean their knives thoroughly. He found a twenty-four-hour car wash and pulled in. No one would be the wiser; they could clean the car inside and out. He pulled in, parked next to the vacuum, and nudged Sam awake.

“Hhmm?” Sam responded, opening his eyes and looking around. He rubbed at his eyes in confusion before it registered where they were. “Cleaning time,” he murmured as he got out, opened the back door, and then fed some money into the machine. He heard the vacuum whirl to life, grabbed the hose, and started vacuuming the interior of the car. When he was finished, he popped the trunk, grabbed a bottle of bleach and some paper towels from a dispenser, and began to wipe down the seats and doors; anything his toy could have touched. He tossed the paper towels in the trash, replaced the bottle, and closed the trunk. “Done,” he called to Dean who had been standing watch. 

Dean swung his attention back to Sam and the car, nodded his head, and motioned for Sam to get in as he slid behind the wheel and drove them to the empty bay so he could wash the car. He fed his money to the machine, rolled up the window, and pulled forward when the red light turned green, indicating the car wash was ready. Ten minutes later, Dean pulled the clean car out of the car wash and back onto the main road in search of a place to crash at least for the next day. 

“Dean,” Sam said quietly as he turned to his brother. “There should be a place up ahead,” he said as his eyes dipped down to look at the cell phone he held in his hands. “Less than a mile on the right. Motel called the  _ Goldenrod _ .” He shrugged non committedly and ended his search for a place to stay. 

Dean grunted in response, not taking his eyes off the road. He saw the sign for the motel; a cheesy billboard with a flashing red neon arrow pointing the way to the motel. He huffed at seeing that and then pulled into the parking lot. He expected to see a rundown strip motel and was surprised to see the place was obviously being maintained. The building looked like it had been given a fresh coat of bright yellow paint, the windows sparkled in the light and the lawn had been mowed. He pulled the car up to the main office and killed the engine. He looked over at Sam as he pulled the key from the ignition. “We've stayed in worse.” He shrugged as he pushed open his door. “Be right back.” He closed the car door and walked in the direction of the office, not waiting for a response from Sam.

He pushed open the door and chuckled when he heard the jingle from the bell overhead. Why did all these places insist on having a bell? He looked up when he heard movement coming from behind the front desk.

“Help ya, son,” a male voice called to him. 

Dean gritted his teeth at the term directed at him. He was no one’s son. Not since he had taken John’s life. He forced himself to smile at the older man. There was no reason to be anything but pleasant at the moment. “Yeah, just need a room for a night, maybe two.”

“Just passing through, are ya?” The man looked over Dean's shoulder to the parked car. “Just the one bed?”

Dean eyed the man. “Yeah, that gonna be a problem?”

“Not for me, as long as you pay. I don't judge. Just don't go trashing the room,” he said with a slight smile on his lips. He reached under the desk, grabbed a room key, and placed it down in front of himself. “That'll be a hundred, even, for the night. If you want to extend your stay, you let me know by eleven a.m. If you're looking for a place to eat, there's a diner about three miles past here. The place is called _The_ _Red Rose_. The food’s good and the prices are cheap. Can’t go wrong eating there,” the man said as he accepted the credit card Dean slipped him. He ran the credit card through for approval, “Just need your signature, Mr. Gauthier,” he said as he placed the credit card receipt on the counter along with Dean’s card. He watched as Dean signed the receipt and then traded it for the room key. “Room 114, toward the back of the building. No one should be bothering you. Enjoy your stay,” he said as Dean pocketed his card and the room key.

“Thanks,” Dean replied and walked back out to join Sam who had been waiting for him in the car. He opened the car door as Sam started speaking to him.

“Any problems?” Sam asked as he narrowed his eyes. It had taken Dean a while to get them a room and Dean had looked like he had been chatting up the motel clerk. It didn’t matter the man’s age, he just didn’t like to see Dean giving his attention to someone else.

Dean looked over his shoulder and then back at Sam. “What?” he asked as he tilted his head toward the office. “He was just telling me about a diner not too far from here. Nothing to get worked up over,” he said with a smirk.

“Better not be,” Sam shot back at him, his anger at his brother’s cavalier attitude rising. He wanted to get out of the car, march into the office, and make it known to the man behind the counter that Dean was his.

Dean saw the brooding look on Sam's face. “Sam, whatever you're thinking about doing, don't,” Dean said in a forceful voice. “It was just a conversation about renting a room and a place to grab some food. Nothing else. Besides, he knows we're together. Got a room with only one bed,” Dean said with a grin. He watched as Sam's anger seemed to dissipate at hearing that as he got in the car and moved it to a parking spot outside their room.

Sam huffed a breath out as he began to relax. He knew he was possessive when it came to Dean. Dean was his; always had been, always would be. “Fine, I won’t do anything. I won’t even talk to the guy. Unless he puts his hands on you, then all bets are off,” he replied as he got out of the car and retrieved their duffle bag from the trunk. He followed Dean inside their room and tossed the bag onto the bed. He watched as Dean rummaged through the bag. “What are you doing?” he asked, not hiding his irritation. He wanted Dean’s attention and he wasn’t getting it. 

“Gotta clean our knives,” Dean said as he held up the knife roll. “Can’t forget that,” he said as he disappeared into the bathroom. “Hey, Sammy, could you get me the bleach and the wet stone? After I clean these, I wanna sharpen them for you,” he called out.

Sam smiled. Dean was taking care of him. “Sure,” he called back as he left their room to get the items out of the trunk. He returned a few minutes later, locked the door, and walked into the bathroom to hand Dean the requested items. “Here,” he said as he held out the bleach and wet stone. 

“Thanks,” Dean murmured as he unrolled the knives and began to painstakingly clean each one. He looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, his body resting against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and his legs casually crossed at his ankles. Sam’s hazel eyes tracked his every movement. He gave a soft smile to Sam and then turned his attention back to what he had been doing. When he was sure the knives were clean, he set the edge of the blades, one by one to the wet stone, sharpening them to where they could cut through paper effortlessly. “Done, he proclaimed as he returned the knives to the knife roll and wrapped them up for safekeeping. “Hungry?” he asked as he cleaned off the bathroom counter, tossing the empty bleach bottle into the trash.

“Starving,” Sam replied heatedly as his eyes raked over Dean’s body. 

“For food,” Dean replied with a smirk. 

Sam’s face darkened when yet again he felt that Dean wasn’t giving him what he wanted. “Yeah, guess I could eat,” he grumbled and then turned away from Dean. 

“Don’t pout. We have all the time in the world,” Dean teased.

“Don’t care. I don’t wanna wait,” Sam responded, sounding like a spoiled brat.

“Sammy, you gotta have a little patience.”

Sam grimaced at Dean but remained silent. Patience had never been his thing. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. Right now, he wanted Dean and he didn’t want to wait. Not for food or permission. He turned and walked out of the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, refusing to acknowledge Dean when he returned the knife roll and wet stone to their bag.

“If you’re gonna be like this, then I’ll leave you here to sulk like a child. I’ll go get something to eat and see if I can’t find someone to keep me company,” Dean countered to Sam’s silent treatment, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face. He knew what he was doing, riling Sam up to get Sam out of this dark mood he was in because Sam wasn’t getting what he wanted; Dean’s full attention or Dean fucking him right now. He wasn’t going to give in to Sam, at least not yet.

“Do that, and I’ll fucking kill them,” Sam responded angrily. He knew Dean was baiting him, but he was angry and he wanted Dean to know it.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dean replied as he grabbed his jacket and walked to the motel room door. He turned and watched as Sam pulled himself up from the bed, standing at his full height. Sam stalked toward him, trying to use his height and muscle mass to crowd him against the door. He felt Sam’s body against his, forcing him against the hard and unforgiving wood of the door and he let go of the jacket he had in his hand, letting it drop to the floor. 

Sam looked at Dean as he pinned Dean against the door, using his body to stop Dean from moving away from him. He raised his arms and placed his hands on the door on either side of Dean’s shoulders. He licked his lips and then leaned forward to hungrily kiss Dean. He ground himself against Dean’s thigh, looking for friction for his semi-hard cock. He moaned as Dean parted his lips, letting him plunder Dean’s mouth with his tongue. He bit down on Dean’s bottom lip before pulling away from them. He looked at Dean, saw that Dean’s cheeks were flush and his green eyes were darkened with desire, knowing those eyes reflected his own. “Why do you insist on teasing me?” he asked in a deep, gravely voice. 

Dean raised his hands to Sam’s head, his fingers twisting into Sam’s long locks. He pulled Sam back down to him for a sloppy kiss, displaying his want for his lover. He let go of Sam’s hair as his hands slid down Sam’s arms to rest on Sam’s trim hips. “Who said I was teasing?” Dean asked as his hands moved to unfasten the button on Sam’s jeans. His fingers made quick work of dragging the zipper down and then pushing Sam’s jeans and boxer briefs past his waist. He heard Sam hiss as the fingers of his right hand rubbed over Sam’s cock; his thumb pressing into the slit to gather the precome that was leaking out. He rubbed his slicked thumb over the velvet-soft flesh, feeling Sam’s cock thicken at his touch. “That's what you've been wanting?” Dean purred into Sam’s ear. Without waiting for an answer from Sam, he caught the younger man off guard and spun them around so that Sam now had his back against the door. He dropped to his knees in front of Sam and looked up at him. He saw Sam looking down at him through hooded eyes. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue over the head of Sam’s cock and heard the sharp intake of breath coming from Sam. Slowly, he worked Sam’s cock into his mouth, teasing Sam as he would inch forward only to pull back and run his tongue around the heated flesh before inching forward again. He heard Sam’s whimpers when he pulled off of him. He smiled slyly and then surged forward, taking all of Sam into his mouth, letting Sam’s cock hit the back of his throat before hollowing his cheeks. His head bobbed back and forth as he began to suck Sam down.

Sam’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at Dean. His brother was a sight to be seen; on his knees in front of him, green eyes looking up at him as Dean wrapped one hand around the base of his cock, the other planted firmly on his hip and Dean’s swollen lips spread obscenely wide around his hard cock. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, hitting the door with a slight thunk. He moaned as Dean worked him into the warm wet heat of his mouth, Dean’s tongue swirling around his engorged cock when he would pull back, only to inch forward again. When he hit the back of Dean’s throat, he nearly came right then, but he felt Dean’s fingers tighten their grip at the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm. “De . . . Dean,” he moaned loudly. He brought his hands up, his fingers wrapping around the strands of Dean’s cropped hair. He wanted to thrust himself into Dean’s mouth, but Dean’s hand on his hip prevented him from moving. He groaned in frustration, feeling the need to move, and not being able to. He felt pleasure coursing through his body as Dean greedily sucked him down. “Dean . . . feels so . . . good,” he moaned. He heard Dean give a low throaty moan in response to him; the vibration shot through his entire body. “So close,” he managed to get out as he felt his balls draw up toward his body. His back arched off the door, pushing himself further into Dean’s mouth as his orgasm ripped through his body. “Dean,” he called out as he came down the older man’s throat. 

Dean licked and sucked at the engorged flesh in his mouth. He moaned around Sam’s cock, appreciating Sam’s response to the blowjob he was giving the younger man. He felt Sam’s body tense; the first indication that Sam was about to come. Then Sam was arching; forcing his cock deeper into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. He heard Sam call his name and he relaxed his muscles as Sam came down his throat. He swallowed everything Sam had to give him; his hand still at the base of Sam’s cock, working over the sensitive flesh until he was sure Sam had emptied his balls. Slowly, he pulled back from Sam, leaving only the tip of Sam’s cock in his mouth. His tongue lapped at the tip until he heard Sam whimper from him working Sam’s overstimulated flesh. He pulled off of Sam’s cock, letting go of the younger man’s body, and used the back of his left hand to wipe at his mouth before getting back up. He looked at Sam; saw Sam’s eyes were closed, his mouth hanging slack, his skin flush and his chest heaving as his body sagged against the door, and smiled at the sight before him, knowing Sam had been sated for the time being. He bracketed Sam’s body with his arms, placing his hands on either side of Sam’s broad shoulders. He leaned in, his lips hovered over the shell of Sam’s ear. “Are you better now?” he asked in a rough voice. 

He nodded at Dean in response to Dean’s question and then Sam opened his eyes. Dean’s skin was flush and his green eyes were dark with lust. Dean had him pinned against the door and had his mouth so close to his face, he turned, trying to capture Dean’s lips for a kiss. He felt Dean press into him, resting his weight against his body as Dean kissed him. He could feel Dean’s semi-hard cock brush up against his thigh. He moved, trying to get his hands on Dean; wanting to return the favor in some way, even if it was only a handjob. He whined low in his throat when Dean batted his hands away. “Dean,” he whimpered when Dean moved away from him. 

Dean gave Sam a lopsided grin. “I’m good. This was all for you, Sammy.” He raised his hand, stopping Sam from any protests he was about to throw at him. “Just wanted to take care of you. You were obviously needing my undivided attention.” He bent down and picked up his jacket from the floor. He straightened up and tugged his jacket on. “Are you ready to get some food?” He placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave their room.

“Dean, let me take care of you,” Sam whispered.

Dean turned slightly to look at Sam. “There will be plenty of time for that, later. Like I said, this was to take care of you, give you what you needed. Right now, I’m hungry. You coming or not?” Dean asked with a smirk on his face. 

Sam eyed Dean suspiciously, thinking Dean was playing with him. “Are you . . . are you sure? You don’t want to? You don’t want me?”

Dean’s smirk grew into a wide grin. “Oh, I want you, never doubt that. But, I can wait. I want food first and you can be my dessert.” He watched as the hurt look on Sam’s face morphed into understanding and then a smile before Sam shook his head. 

“Yeah,” Sam quietly said as he grabbed his jacket and followed Dean out to the car. He sat next to Dean, humming along with the radio as they drove the few miles to the diner. He followed Dean into the diner and sat across from him. He grabbed a menu and looked it over, trying to figure out what he wanted. He lifted his eyes from the menu as their waitress approached their table.

“Hi, I’m Wendy. Can I get either of you something to drink?” the waitress asked with a smile. 

“Coffee,” Dean automatically responded. 

“Same,” Sam replied.

“Do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu?” 

“I’m ready, how about you?” Dean asked, looking directly at Sam, not giving the waitress his attention. 

“Yeah, I’ll have the turkey club sandwich with fries,” Sam said and replaced the menu in its holder at the back of their booth.

“I’ll have the whiskey bacon burger with fries,” Dean said, placing his menu back with Sam’s.

“Got it. I’ll be right back with your coffees,” Wendy said before leaving to place their order. She returned a few minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee and placed them down on their table. “Let me know if you need a refill,” she said before moving away to wait on another table. 

Sam looked around the diner. It was small but quaint; having a total of fourteen booths, eight tables, and a counter with eight stools. The walls were white with red roses painted sporadically on them. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, only stopping when Dean placed his hands over his. He looked over at Dean, expecting to see Dean looking at him in annoyance. To his surprise, Dean had a fond smile on his face. “What?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing,” Dean said, as he pulled back and picked up his coffee. He took a sip and then placed the cup down to his right as the waitress walked over to their table carrying their food.

“Here you go,” she said as she placed their plates down. “Enjoy.” She turned and left them to eat, only returning a few minutes later to make sure everything was to their satisfaction. When they were finished, she came by, cleared away their dirty dishes, and offered them more coffee. At their refusal, she left the check with them. 

Dean stood up from the booth and placed enough cash down on the table to cover their food and tip. “Ready?” he asked as he started for the door, followed by Sam. He smiled and nodded to the waitress when she thanked them and wished them a good rest of their day. They got in the car and drove, familiarizing themselves with the town they were in before finally returning to the motel for the night. 

Together, they entered the room. Sam closed and locked the door as Dean shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over their duffle bag, and kicked off his shoes before he made his way into the bathroom to wash up for the night. He stepped out into the bedroom to find Sam laying on the bed fully clothed. “You gonna get washed up?” he questioned as he watched Sam laying on the bed with his arms crossed under his head, his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. He noticed the duffle bag had been moved to the floor in front of the bed & his jacket hung off the back of the chair next to the built-in desk. He walked over to the chair and tossed his dirty clothes onto the chair. He heard movement and turned back to see that Sam had propped himself up on his elbows and had been watching his movements. He frowned at Sam, who had yet to answer him. “What’s wrong?” 

Sam shifted on the bed into a sitting position, kicking his long legs over the side, and then stood up. “Nothing, just admiring the view.” He let his eyes trail up and down Dean’s naked form, admiring the toned muscles that rippled under Dean’s pale skin as Dean moved. Dean may have a love of junk food, greasy burgers, and alcohol, but his body was well defined; not an ounce of fat on it. There was nothing he liked better than to see Dean on display. He stripped out of his own clothes, adding them to the pile on the chair, and disappeared into the bathroom to shower. When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Dean already in bed. He heard the soft even breaths coming from Dean, indicating that the older man was asleep. While he wanted to pick up where they had left off earlier in the day before leaving the room to get something to eat, he also wanted Dean to get the rest he needed. He walked to the foot of the bed, searched through the duffle bag until he found what he wanted, a book he had picked up a few days ago on Celtic myths. He climbed into bed, making sure not to disturb Dean, and began to read.


End file.
